


Vows and Oaths

by daphnerunning



Series: What is Wrought Between Us [20]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: There, upon a hill new-formed, they are remade, and eternity begins anew.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: What is Wrought Between Us [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019358
Comments: 33
Kudos: 102





	Vows and Oaths

They called it the Year of Feasts.

First, because all the food was new, sung into life by Yavanna, called from the new-formed mountains by Oromë, nourished and cultivated by the Light of the Trees. Bounty burst forth, in varieties never before seen or tasted, and many elves dedicated themselves to nothing but the tasting for centuries, finding each new fruit and grain and tuber and bird with utter delight.

It was called Qanteluvanda, The Paradise that was Promised. There, beneath the Trees rebirthed, they became new.

Vows, Oaths, and Pacts were null. All must be remade, so said the Valar, for even the Elder Children of the song who had never died were entitled to rebirth, if they willed it, with no shadows of the past to remind them of what was marred.

"A toast! A toast, and a song!"

Maedhros had forgotten his father could look merry. He had, of course, in the time before the Unchaining. Now it was as if the fires of creation within him burned bright, but not hot, as if the fear of losing what he brought to life had faded from his eyes.

His parents had plighted a desire to betrothe yet agan, promising their vows as new elves, as young as they had once been. Maedhros had felt his heart soar to see them stroll together in the gardens of Naltarwa, courting anew, whispering, conspiring, planning new projects together. Maedhros rather thought they would need to add more points to the Fëanorian star, before long.

Others had chosen not to renew their vows, from long sadness remembered or new connections sought. If hearts were sorrowful at the partings, there was healing and vibrant song in Qanteluvanda, and no partings lasted forever. Nothing less than full and eager agreement could bring forth new unions and new blessings, and there were plenty for all who sought them.

"The toast--that must be you, brother. And the song, Káno!"

Kanafinwë stood to general applause from all assembled--and it was truly _all_ that were assembled. The celebration spilled from the top of Ambolúvë down to the sea, even those who could hardly hear the toasts and see the participants wanting to be part of the event. Varda, as an early gift, splashed their faces across the skies in winking lights, drawing gasps of delight from all who saw. Manwë gave wind to their voices, letting Kanafinwë's voice carry easily, even down to the shores. "I will sing," he said, looking as young and unburdened as if he were no more than his majority. "But first, Uncle!"

Ñolofinwë stood as well, a broad smile on his face. His reinvigorated youth, Maedhros thought, was almost less of a change than his shoulders with no armor, his head with no crown. his eyes with no grief. He raised his magnificent goblet, glittering with amber liquid, towards the head of the table.

"I will not begin with words of chiding, though well I might. For long ago, in the Time Before, I was denied my chance to say such things. I should be speaking them again, not for the first time. But the greatest gifts are given twice, are they not?

"So, this gift I give, along with my love, which has always been yours. As my brother's son, and my son's chosen, I welcome you with love." Ñolofinwë held up a circlet, crafted of some shimmering metal that gleamed in a way pure copper never could, set in with a red stone at the center. "Upon the formation of your House, and to commemorate your union. Welcome, my son."

Maedhros felt tears sting his eyes, and swallowed hard, nodding. He fumbled for something to say, but before he could, Nerdanel stood, and all eyes turned to her immediately.

"We had a long discussion of who would be presenting which gifts to whom," she said, and there was a small laugh gone up at that. To say that it had been a topic of gossip amongst the elves of Qanteluvanda would be a grave understatement. Findekáno had cheerfully kept a tally of how many had asked him whether he would be bride or groom, and they were not limited to young elves who had seen little of the world.

Such things would fade, Maedhros knew, and become commonplace. They were hardly the only male elves to plight troth to each other in this new world, just the first, and the first to be granted full ceremony. It was the Year of Feasts, with another held each night in the grand halls, as renewed souls sought those they had loved and lost, those they had loved and never found, and those they loved still. But they were the first of the Great Houses to pledge, and as such, many felt themselves free to ask questions that to anyone else would be impertinent.

Findekáno had not minded. If anything, he had encouraged the gossip, by giving different answers of increasing ridiculousness each time, ranging from "We will both be grooms, of course" to "We will both be brides, of course" and "I will begin as the groom, then mid-way through will don a fine gown and become his wife, of course," to the increasing chagrin of his son.

"But in the end, I had my way," Nerdanel declared with a beaming smile. "For this will be my only chance to speak at a wedding, as I have no daughters."

"Yet," Tyelkormo murmured under his breath, to a quiet snicker from the Ambarussa.

Nerdanel quelled them with a look, but the cheer was undisrupted by the mirth, and she held aloft a magnificent sapphire, set into a matching circlet, but of mithril. Two silhouettes faced each other in the silver-steel, small, but beautifully sculpted, as lifelike as if they were truly animate. "Findekáno, dear lad," she said, as if he were not several thousand years old, but were still tagging along behind his eldest cousin, eager to impress. "It seems strange that I should even think of gifting to you, when you are a gift in the body of an elf. When you were no more than twenty, I recall telling Maitimo's father, 'They will never be apart, if fate is kind.' It has not been, has it?"

Findekáno gave her a smile, and reached beneath the table to squeeze Maedhros's hand, only to find it sitting, palm-up, on the table. A slow warmth crept into his eyes, and he put his hand in Maedhros's, twining their fingers together, the new-forged metal of their rings making a sound almost like the chiming of tiny bells as they touched. Of course it did, one of them forged by Aulë himself, the other by Fëanor, who was determined to best even Aulë with his craftsmanship of even something so simple. Maedhros would have liked to use the material from the ribbons--it was a noble metal, after all--but those still lingered somewhere in sunken Beleriand, and having something new between them would be no loss.

"But some dark nights bring beautiful skies, and I give to you my sunrise himself. To Maitimo and Findekáno, in my blessing and gratitude for safeguarding the heart of my dear child through all the ages of the world."

The applause swelled, and from all around, Maedhros heard voices lifted together, glittering lights lifting to join the stars in a great golden canopy overhead, mingling with the silver light of Telperion.

The toasts seemed to last for days. After the exchange of gifts, it seemed everyone wished to speak. Ereinion Gil-Galad, granted a place of high esteem even among High Kings, was forced to produce his handkerchief to dab his eyes, much to his mortification. Elrond spoke for himself and for his absent brother, sitting between Gil-Galad and Celebrian, and he looked as if a weight of guilt and of years had been lifted from his shoulders. Each of Maedhros's brothers demanded a chance to speak, though Nerdanel was quick to intervene in any speeches that threatened vulgarity, hissing, _"You will not ruin my night!"_

Maedhros was most surprised that Turukáno wished to speak. At least he kept it short, ceding to Írissë, who immediately upstaged her brother by announcing her engagement to Tyelkormo.

Before the night could devolve into a sibling brawl (shockingly, not among the Sons of Fëanor), Kanafinwë stood, and sang.

The song was a new one, of praise and love, and so unlike his laments that Maedhros felt himself weep. Long had it been since he'd heard such a song in that familiar, beloved voice.

"Now," called Finwë, and every voice went quiet in hushed anticipation. "Surely, you two have made us wait long enough."

A tiny current of laughter flooded through the assembled audience. Maedhros joined it, almost shy as he stood, drawing Findekáno along by the hand, leading him to stand upon the crested hill of Ambolúvë. It was not a cliff above Alqualondë, but he could see the sea, and the stars, and the Trees, and the faces of all those he had ever loved, smiling at them.

He took Findekáno's hands, right in his left, left in his right, and spoke. "I do not love you for your harp and your bow," he said, and had to pause a moment as emotion welled in his throat. He blinked several times, and felt Findekáno squeeze his hands, encouraging. He cleared his throat, heard his brothers hissing encouragement at him, and nodded, firming his resolve. "I do not love you," he started again, "for your harp and your bow. I do not love you for the thousands of years of kindness and warmth you have shown me. I do not love you for the times you have saved my life, or been the reason I had one. I love them, Finno. But more, I love you. You were the song in my long Everlasting Dark. Now, you are my light next to which all others appear dim. I offer you my spirit, Findekáno, son of Anairë and Ñolofinwë, in the name of Eru Illuvatar, that we two might be joined. May Varda, Star-Kindler, hear my call."

He couldn't help to look left, to where Varda stood, serene and calm next to Manwë, their presence a gift to the House of Finwë. Her eyes twinkled at him; she had heard his call, for certain.

"May Manwë, the Lord of Winds to whom all birds are dear, watch over us," Findekáno answered, and turned to give the King of the Valar a grin. "As he ever has. Long ago, I told you I would have whatever I had of you, and be glad. Now I say before the Noldorim, the Vanyar, and all other elven kin, I will be satisfied with no less than all of you, and give you all of me, from now on. In the name of Eru Illuvatar, I give you my spirit to join with your own, my bright flame."

 _Until the world is remade, and all things change,_ the words used to say. Now, they clasped hands, and said, "Until the Music is finished."

"And after," Findekáno couldn't help adding, and Maedhros kissed him, lips against lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me through this whole series. Your support means SO much, honestly, I haven't enjoyed writing like this in a very long time.


End file.
